


Pedigree

by Sometimes_I_Write_Things



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Job, Body Worship, Bondage, Come Inflation, Cum Inflation, Dirty Talk, Dubcon(?), Fingering, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Slave, Size Difference, Threesome, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sometimes_I_Write_Things/pseuds/Sometimes_I_Write_Things
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tavros has been bought as Darkleer's sex slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pedigree

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by pupapancakes.

You squirm a bit as huge hands capable of crushing your bones caress your hips. Your hips were never something you thought you would get praised about. Most of the time, they just got in the way and made fitting through tight spaces more than difficult. The way the adult troll touches and coos at you tells you different. It makes you quite uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as the leather belt restraining your wrists. The length of leather has been looped around your wrists and knotted, then attached to a leg of the table you lay on now. You’re naked and restrained and unbearably exposed with your ass in the air, vulnerable as the blue blooded troll feels you up.

Your new master, The Executioner Darkleer as you’ve come to know him, is surprisingly gentle with his hands. Every now and then, he gives your fleshy rear a little squeeze and you tense. You’re terrified that this is where it is going to start to hurt but he just loosens his grip and continues his affectionate touches. It’s putting you on edge with how long he’s waiting to just use you and be done.

“Your pedigree is most impressive. Beautiful shape you have here. Full and round, just the way a lowblood like you should be. You were a very good purchase, I must say.”

“Please. I don’t want this.”

When he freezes in his touching, you start trembling. Oh no. Did you make him angry? Great, now this is going to hurt ten times more than it has to. You force yourself not to sigh when the touching starts up again.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you want this. What lowblood in your place wouldn’t be thrilled to have such an honor of pleasing one of my caste.”

You take that as your cue to keep silent. You don’t want to chance saying anything to set him off. He spreads your ass cheeks and you gasp a moan when the cool air hits your flushed nook. You already have the beginnings of lubrication starting to drip from your nook as a result of your master’s touching. You want to feel embarrassed but two large fingers rubbing at your slick folds makes your thinkpan stutter. He kept you spread open with one hand while the other played with your nook. You can’t seem to stop shaking and your voice is shaking with you as you start panting. When he pushes those fingers inside, you blurt out a startled moan. His two fingers alone make your nook sting with the stretch. He doesn’t even wait for you to adjust before he starts wiggling his digits against your walls, pressing and rubbing and stretching. You should be grateful that you’re being prepared but you can’t focus on anything other than trying to get used to the pain.

You flinch when you feel something cool and wet gliding along your rump. You guessed it was his bulge until a small nick from his teeth tells you otherwise. He starts pistoning his fingers in and out of your nook while he nips and sucks bruises all over your backside, making you squirm. The struggle to keep your noises locked inside was beginning to be more and more difficult with each passing moment. He sucks one last mark onto the small of your back and stands up straight with a huff. He removes his fingers from your nook with haste and the wet sucking sound makes you cringe. You squeak when you feel his bulge pressing at your nook and his voice is breathy and low as he speaks.

“I am going to pail you now. Do not resist me or it will only hurt more than necessary.”

You utter a panicked squeal when you feel the tip of his bulge push into you. Just that bit alone stretches you like one of his fingers. That won’t be able to fit. No no no that’s not even half and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You tense up and tremble at the both the present pain and the thought of pain promised to you in the very near future.

“I told you not to resist. I am being kind to offer you such useful advice. Use it or not, I will be doing as I see fit regardless of your pleas.”

He starts pushing again, this time faster than the first, and you force yourself to relax as you’re stretched beyond belief. Despite the throbbing sting in your nook, your bulge gives a little twitch but you refuse to admit you like this. His bulge seems like it goes on forever, squirming and pushing deeper and deeper until you’re forced to hold your breath to keep from crying out. When he stops pushing, you release your breath in a choking sob. You’re full beyond belief and all you can do is lie here and be used to the blue-blood’s content. 

Just when you think you may be able to adjust to the length inside you, your owner starts thrusting into you. You lose all control of your voice as he rocks your body with steady, unyielding thrusts. The pace is too fast for any pleasure to build but not fast enough to be damaging. Tears fall freely down your cheeks as you involuntarily imagine yourself being split up the middle by the adult troll’s insanely strong thrusts. You actually are glad he is holding himself back for you, not wanting to actually kill you. Despite the fact that this could be much worse, the fact remains that this pailing is not pleasurable in the slightest. It’s painful, impersonal, scary. 

He keeps the same steady pace the entire time and you warble and babble pitifully. Your wrists are raw and burning from how you’ve been pulling against the ropes tying you to the table. You focus on that until the slightest bit of pressure begins building inside your groin. It burns and makes you feel nauseous but a loud roar and a sudden rush of cool fluids distracts you from the rising pleasure. He stopped with his bulge seated deep in your nook and he remains there for a moment, rocking gently to milk every drop of material from his bulge. He pulls out and you make a confused sound. You hadn’t cum yet but you’re thankful your body hadn’t betrayed.

“I will have to train you to climax when I do. Conception is more likely when both participants release within reasonable time together. I expect you to do better next time.”


	2. Proper Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkleer asks his superior for help in dealing with his brownblood slave.

“Motherfuckin’ fine slave you got there, motherfucker.”

“Thank you, Highblood.”

“So you’re having a little motherfuckin trouble with him, huh? Give him here. Let me hold the motherfucker.”

They talk about you as if you’re not even there. Why should they not? You’re merely a pet to them, a play thing, a fuck toy. You’ve come to learn that quickly once you became Darkleer’s property. You’re transferred from one lap to the next without a fuss, giving a little shiver at the slightly colder lap you’re sitting in. Said troll lightly trails his claws down your naked spine, giving a little hum when you shudder for a completely different reason than the change of temperature.

Your master has not been happy with your behavior, lately. Sure, you were obedient, albeit, reluctantly, but you weren’t happy like your master wanted. You did everything Darkleer asked of you; submitted to his will, prostrated every orifice to him that he may have wanted to fuck and accepted your fate, but he noticed your rather morose mood. His attempts to punish you for your ungratefulness did nothing but make you fear him more, made you cower at his touch. Eventually, you’ve all but given up, just letting yourself be used at his will without a bit of an attempt to fight or participate. Now, having grown tired of your gloomy disposition, your master has turned to the counsel of his superior, The Grand Highblood.

They lounge on the couch as they discuss your behavior as if it were something as trivial as the weather. You keep your head down and remain quiet as they converse, trying to ignore the huge, cold hands rubbing over your skin. Your master doesn’t touch you very much unless he’s punishing you or stuffing his bulge inside you. Except for the first time he took you. He seemed to have lost all patience for any gentle affections towards you after that. It’s weird to feel such gentle touches like this from someone, especially one who’s not your master. You have a feeling these touches are only the means to an end, considering what the two higher bloods are talking about.

“He’s a good little lowblood bitch, Darkleer. So well behaved,” the highblood coos as his large hands smooth over your thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze now and again. “But you want to make him motherfuckin’ want it, yeah? Make the shitblood slut enjoy mirth you bestow on him?”

“Yes, sir. He obeys, but he does not seem to realize the fortunate position he is in.”

The huge subjuggulator slips his hand between your legs and pets at your nook with two large fingers. You flinch at the touch and gasp, trying not to squirm to much less you anger the highblood feeling you up. You wish your master would allow you to wear clothes when he has company. You don’t really care when it’s just you and him, but being in nothing but your cow-bell collar with strangers around is just too much. The Grand Highblood chuckles and brings the hand not on your nook to your mowhawk, yanking your head back to force you to look up at him. You do so with wide, watering eyes.

“So you’re an ungrateful motherfucker, is that it? You don’t motherfuckin’ realize the mirthful shit your master does for you? Well, I can fix that. I’ll teach you to appreciate the privileges you’ve been motherfuckin’ granted.”

At that, the highblood teases the opening of your nook with the rough pads of his fingers, staring down at you with a grin that gleams with cruel amusement while you fight back tears. His touches are so gentle, so soft and sweet that you can’t help the way your legs open up for him. The highblood lets out a purr at that, rubbing you a little harder as your fluids ooze from your nook. You give a little whine at that, hips twitching in the hulking troll’s lap as his finger stretches you easily. It doesn’t hurt you. You’ve been stretched by Darkleer’s bulge many times before, but you’re still tight enough to feel the dull sting as the pressure.

“See this shit, Darkleer? You gotta get the motherfucker all warmed up first, get him all nice and motherfuckin’ soaked so the shit will feel good to him. Make his motherfuckin’ whorish body betray whatever pointless shit his worthless thinkpan is telling him.”

“I see… I never thought of it that way.”

“Miracle nook he’s got here. Come, show me how you fuck him, motherfucker.”

“O-of course, Highblood. Shall I have him pleasure you as well?”

Your mowhawk is released and your nook relieved of the sweet pressure of a finger in favor of the highblood reaching between your bodies and freeing his bulge from his pants.

“Righteous suggestion, motherfucker.”

You gasp as your master moves to kneel in front of you and grasps your hips, turning you around and shoving your face into the Grand Highblood’s lap. The purple bulge is longer than your masters but seems to be just as thick. It pulses against your cheek and squirms, eagerly seeking friction.

“Be a good slave and pleasure our host.”

Darkleer releases your head and grasps your hips again, his grip more gentle than usual as he slowly squeezes his bulge into you. You whine and shiver as the slow pace he enters you makes you feel every single ridged inch press against your quivering walls. You don’t stay distracted by the sensations for too long for the highblood fists his hand into your hair and pulls you against his bulge as he rocks his hips. You take the hint, dropping your jaw as wide as you can for the purple tendril to slither into your waiting mouth. The juggalo rumbles a purring moan as you begin to work, pressing your tongue against the underside of his bulge while your master’s gentle rocking helps to move your head up and down the girth in your mouth.

Darkleer doesn’t exactly thrust into you like he usually would. Instead, he grinds his hips against your cushiony ass while his bulge rolls inside you, the tentacle stirring your insides and pressing against everything hot and sensitive inside you. It’s so different from what you’re used to that you can’t help but whimper and moan around the length in your mouth. The highblood shudders at the vibrations your voice send through his bulge and the tendril squirms down your throat, choking your involuntary sounds as Darkleer fucks you so slow and terribly sweet. The troll in front of you groans softly as you work him up, releasing the tight hold on your hair to cup your cheek and wipe away the tears falling down your brown-dusted cheek. For once, these tears are not from pain but from the automatic reaction of having your mouth and throat strained so wide.

You shake terribly as you’re forced to feel pleasure from this, finding yourself eagerly rocking back against your master and suckling on the Grand Highblood’s bulge in earnest. You’re horrified to be made to feel so good, terribly disgusted with yourself that you’re actively participating for once in the time you’ve been Darkleer’s slave. You find your nook growing wetter by the second with each guttural sound you earn from your master and his superior. Your bulge coils in on itself as they praise you, tell you how good you’re making them feel. The fuzzy warmth you feel in your pump biscuit at their praises is all wrong. You shouldn’t feel so delighted that your body can bring them pleasure, that your master finally sounds so very happy with you in this moment.

Darkleer’s bulge finds a particularly sensitive spot in your nook and you buck, your bulge dribbling heavily on the floor beneath you at the contact. Your master catches on and purposefully curls his bulge right on that spot, mercilessly stimulating it until you’re choking on your cries of pleasure and cumming hard without your consent. Your gagging sends the Grand Highblood over the edge, his hand holding you down on his bulge as his hips press up against your face. Your nose brushes his pelvis as he uses your mouth for a bucket, growling out a sigh of pleasure as his material sloshes in your belly. Your master continues his assault on your nook, grinding faster and harder even after the highblood has pulled you off his bulge and lets you rest your head on his thigh. The highblood croons at you as you whimper and mewl, petting your hair as the nerves in your nook are forced to keep firing off with something more akin to pain than pleasure.

“Good motherfucker. Take it. Take that motherfuckin’ bulge. Ain’t your master so good to you? Giving you all the pleasure you could motherfuckin’ want and then some. You’ll learn to be grateful now, won’t you? You’re going to motherfuckin’ crave this from him now. Show him the proper appreciation for all he does for you.”

Your master releases inside you with a shaky sigh, holding your hips tight against his and you groan. You’re forced to cum again from the sensation of being filled to the point of bloating, bulge giving a pathetic splatter of material as your body is wracked with tremors. Your eyes roll in your head and your tongue hangs from your mouth, Darkleer’s bulge feeling five times bigger inside you as your nook convulses around him. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before and it’s oh so good, so intense that your thinkpan just can’t handle it. The last thing you hear before you lose consciousness is your master speaking to the highblood.

“Thank you for your advice, sir. I do believe I won’t be having any more trouble from him, in the future.”


	3. Acceptable Behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros goes into heat and looks to his master to sate him.

He came to you, this time, trilling and chirping at you as he pressed his feverish body against you. You turned away from your worktable with a musing hum, a small smirk on your lips as you faced him. Your little bull’s face was flushed and his pupils were blown out as he settled himself between your legs and rolled his body against you. Reaching down, you scooped him into your lap and responded to his trilling with a low, quiet growl. With this position, his naked groin was pressed against your clothed one as he ruts, and your sheathe retracted in response.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he came to you willingly. His scent had been growing more and more potent over the last few nights, making him antsy and more sensitive to touch. When you had taken notice of just what was happening with him, you had refrained from pailing him. Though, you had indulged yourself in a bit of affectionate touching, running your hands over his hips and back and groping his rump just to get him worked up only to stop. Your little slave never vocalized a complaint for leaving him worked up and without release, but you could see the way his body would seem to chase after your hands, searching for that touch again.

Now, you don’t stop. You pet at his twitching nook from behind with one hand while the other works to free your awakening bulge from your trousers. You’re sure to be gentle and teasing, really getting him whining for it, which he does beautifully. In no time, you have him sopping wet and clinging to you as he clicks and chirps urgently, hips bucking down hard on the pads of your fingers. You find he’s truly lovely like this, free of that annoying hesitation that hindered his complete compliance. That has your bulge curling possessively around his brown tendril, stalling the other’s frantic waving with its superior size and strength.

“Patience,” you whisper to him, tone commanding despite the softness of your voice. He stills, but with much difficulty judging by the way he shakes all over. Using the hold you have on his bottom half, you hold him tightly to you as you stand and kick away your pants. You turn and lay him on your work table, sweeping aside the little projects you were working on to make space as you do so. He’s panting and digging his claws into your shirt, staring up at you with big frantic eyes as your bulge still keeps his mostly still.

“Please…”

“I said patience.”

He whimpers at that but it’s cut off with a shudder as your bulge squeezes his rhythmically, distracting him as you remove the rest of your garments. No need for you to sully your clothes with his filthy brown. His bulge oozes heavily at your attentions, coating your own tendril in hot, lubricating fluids. Once you’re divested of your clothes, you smooth your palms over his hips. You marvel at his ample softness, something you’ve always enjoyed about him. His body makes for the perfect cushion when you take him and it’s quite an enjoyment to grip him by his shapely rump. You could almost say you are fascinated by the feel of it, primitively drawn to his weak, softness in contrast to your strong, sturdy musculature.

He rocks up against you, his bulge sliding in and out of your bulge’s grip with ease due to the generous amounts of pre-material he’s secreting. A groan bubbles from you lips and you help him, using your grip on his hips to help him fuck the space between your bulge. Tavros shudders and chirrs, heeding to your guidance and bucking in the time your hands dictate. Soon, it gets to be too much for you. He smells so /good/ and the heat of his bulge against yours makes your spine crawl with anticipatory pleasure. Though, that’s nothing compared to the heat coming of his nook. You can feel it wafting over the base of your bulge every time you pull him close and you find your tendril throbbing each time it happens. You cannot take any more of this teasing. You have to have him, now.

Tavros wails when you move your bulge away from his but he doesn’t fuss for long. You begin pushing into him, bulge squeezing into his opening and pressing against his tight walls as it squirms deeper. It always amazes you how tight he stays, despite all the rough treatment his nook as seen. He’s not as tight as the first time but it’s always a bit of a fight to get all the way inside him given the difference in size. The only difference now is your bulge is allowed easier passage with how immensely wet he is. He’s absolutely scorching inside as your bulge reaches deeper into him, a pleasant stinging sensation on your sensitive tentacle as you force him wide open. By the time you’re fully sheathed inside him, you can feel his pusher-beat in his nook with how thin the walls are stretched inside him.

When you start moving, not thrusting but curling your bulge inside him, Tavros lets out the breath he had been holding in the form of a high trill. You bend down to wrap the brown-blood in your arms, grinding your hips as your bulge rolls in his pulsating nook. Your tendril presses and rubs over every inch of his nook, the tip flicking over something sensitive nestled deep inside him. He rocks with you, trying to bring you deeper, desperate for more, but you won’t allow it. You want to keep him desperate and frantic for release as you slowly, tenderly pleasure him. The hard planes of your abs press and rub against the underside of his bulge as you fuck him, smearing his lowly brown over the both of you. You can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment; you’re much to enraptured by the way his nook clenches and quivers and drools around your girth. All the while, your hands are roaming over his hips and thighs, squeezing and pinching and even giving them a gentle swat just to see the flesh ripple.

“Absolutely lovely… So soft and supple…”

He cums twice before you do, warbling and tensing up as his bulge erupts and his nook clamps down on your bulge like a vice. Each time, his nook gets almost painfully tight, preventing your large member from moving more than an undulating pulse until his walls relent and give you room to roll inside him once more. When you finally do release, you grunt and growl as you fill him up, the inner tissues and muscles of your bulge contracting and throbbing as they work to push material up through the tapered tip. Tavors makes the sweetest cooing sound as you fill him to the point of bloating, both your material and his own that couldn’t escape from around your girth sloshing heavily in his lower belly. You purr and rub your hands over the distended lump, not bothering to remove your bulge from his raw nook.

“You did very well, today. Most acceptable behavior. You have pleased me, this night, slave.”

“Thank you… master…”


End file.
